by Emmy Ellis
If he didn’t get her mind off searching, he’d be bitten.
Chapter Eighteen
Cassie and Doreen sat at the kitchen island with Mam, coffees in front of them as well as a dinner plate of cheese-and-ham sandwiches, half of them gone, crumbs and a golden nugget of cheddar in their place. Having heard what Doreen had to say, Cassie had digested the information and worked out how they’d deal with the situation later. Mam nattered to Doreen about making sure she could handle what was to come—not just at the time but afterwards, the guilt—and Doreen assured her she’d be fine, a mysterious expression flitting over her face, gone before Cassie could identify its meaning.
‘Fine’ remained to be seen. Once blood was spilt, the woman might lose her shit.
Cassie waited for a lull in the conversation and expressed her thoughts. “Right, you go along with whatever Karen suggests.” She smiled at Doreen. “As she’s already agreed to the two-in-the-morning thing, we’ll meet at The Beast then. I’ll be in the alley opposite in Old Barrington way before that—get her to agree to you parking outside the first row on New so Sculptor’s Field is between us. I don’t want the risk of her coming down that alley or seeing my car.” Perhaps she’d have one nicked and change the plates. There was still time.
Doreen frowned. “What if she insists on leaving hers in Old?”
Cassie picked up a quarter triangle of sandwich. “Make a racket, slam the car door or something, and I’ll jump over the fence into a garden.” She grimaced, thinking of vaulting the one at the laundrette. “I’ve got some experience doing that.”
She glanced at Mam to see if that garnered a laugh, but her mother seemed distracted by something else. Did it have owt to do with Lou Wilson coming round this morning? Lou had been leaving as Cassie had rolled up on the drive, stating they’d had a catch-up over coffee and Cassie would need to come and see her soon; she had something she wanted to put to her. Cassie didn’t have room in her head at the minute to wonder what that was.
Mam snapped out of her fugue and gave her two pence worth. “I’ll be coming—no arguing over that either—and I’m not vaulting a bloody fence. Imagine the scenario that Cassie’s already dead. Tell Karen people won’t be expecting someone to have come from New Barrington to kill Cassie. Push the point that it’s the Old lot who’d have a beef, and with Cassie murdered, I’d more than likely concentrate my efforts there when trying to find who’d killed her. They’re the ones who get their knickers in a twist—and Karen should know, she’s one of them. So if you park in New, she’ll think you’re trying to get any suspicion off her by doing so.”
“Okay.” Doreen sipped some coffee. “Changing the subject a minute… I have to tell you something. Explain the reason why I won’t have any guilt.” She turned to Mam.
Uneasy, Cassie paused mid-chew. “What…”
Doreen gave the plate her attention. “I’ve basically killed before—or made sure they ended up dead anyroad.”
Shock sent Cassie rearing backwards for a second, as if her subconscious warned her to get away from Doreen, the secret-keeper; her past antics coming out now were meant to be in one of the ledgers, and Cassie should already be aware. “You’ve what? When?”
Doreen stiffened her spine, to either give her strength to let it all out or because she wanted them to know she wasn’t ashamed. “I don’t regret it, let’s get that out there straight off the bat, just like I won’t regret it with Karen. Some people are just…I don’t know, vinegar. That sounds daft, but I know what I mean.”
“Acidic,” Mam said.
“That’s it. She’s always treated me as inferior, made me feel like I was less than her, and if she’s stupid enough to try to reclaim the Barrington when we’re all so well looked after by you two, the ungrateful cow, then I have no worries about helping you out. There are things she did when she ran the place that would surprise you, the nasty bint, all done behind the scenes, then she’d act like she was the nicest thing ever.”
“Two-faced.” Mam nodded. “One persona here, another there. I know her of old. She’s always been the same. So…back to this killing.”
Doreen paused forever. “Lenny covered it up.”
It was Mam’s turn to reel, a hand automatically going up to cover her open mouth, and she over-blinked, enough to tell Cassie she had trouble processing that information and was trying not to cry.
“Lenny?” Mam gasped.
That would burn. Dad told Mam everything—or so she’d thought, but Cassie knew he’d hidden some things to protect them.
What else did he keep to himself? What other shit’s going to come out later down the line? First he killed The Mechanic for a murder he hadn’t committed, now he’s got rid of someone for Doreen?
Doreen faced Mam. “Um, I went to him for help, he was the first person who came into my head, and he’d said it was the right thing to do. God, it was years ago, some fella who wouldn’t leave me alone. He wanted to go out with me after I split from my old man, Richie’s dad, so I agreed to go to this restaurant in town. Remember The Aga?”
Mam smiled fondly. “Yes, that was an old haunt of ours. I miss their steak pies and those pineapple puddings they did.”
“Me an’ all.” Doreen took a deep breath, nostalgia in her gaze. “So I went, we had this nice meal and a few drinks, and afterwards, out the back in his car, he…well, he tried it on, but I said no, it was too soon for me. He insisted, said if I didn’t do it with him, he’d come for my Richie, hurt him. Let’s just say his advances still weren’t wanted, and after a struggle, I clocked him over the head with this iron bar he had in the footwell.” She gazed into the middle distance, memories possibly floating through her head. “It had a curve on the end, I remember that, and it was rusty. I thought it’d just knock him out, enough so I could get away and tell Lenny he’d threatened my son, then he could take over, but the fella, he wasn’t fucking breathing, and there was blood splashed everywhere, a gash in the top of his head.”
“Christ, Dor, you must have hit him with a fair old whack.” Mam laid a hand on Doreen’s. “I wonder why Lenny never told me.”
I knew it would bother her.
Doreen winced, maybe aware Mam was struggling. “I asked him not to, made him promise—so please don’t blame him. I was ashamed my man radar wasn’t working properly and I’d almost got raped. He did say he usually told you what he got up to, but this time, he’d keep the secret. The least amount of people who knew, in my opinion, the better.”
“How did he help you?” Mam asked.
“He took the fella to Marlene, got rid of the iron bar, the car. He reckoned I must have panicked about the bloke not breathing because he was well and truly alive when Lenny got there, if a bit groggy. Marlene finished him off. I’ve always wanted to thank her, you know, find out who she is and tell her that getting rid of him saved me having to see him, reliving the shame every time I did. I’ve asked myself over the years if killing him was necessary, but I’m convinced if he was allowed to gad about as usual, he’d try it with someone else, probably succeed an’ all.”
“That’s a big weight to carry,” Mam said, “for someone like you who doesn’t run in those sorts of circles. Until now, obviously.”
Doreen picked at the cuff of her blue cardigan, blushing. “I’ve run in circles you don’t know about, but that’s a story for another day. I don’t feel bad at all—if you say you’ll hurt my son, I’ll hurt you, it’s as simple as that.” Her eyes watered. “And in the end, Richie died anyroad, I couldn’t save him.” She shrugged. “If it hadn’t been on Lenny’s orders, the drugs would have done it. I’ll admit now, Cass, when you turned up to tell me about my boy being gone, I hated Lenny, and you for being the messenger. He’d helped me cover up that murder yet still gave the nod for my son to be offed, knowing it’d break me, knowing the lengths I’d gone to that time to keep him safe. I understand it now, though, I’ve thought about it a lot, and while we’re in confession mode, I don’t think you’re a snooty
bitch anymore.”
Cassie laughed. “I want people to think I’m a snooty bitch, so the fact you did means I succeeded in doing what Dad wanted. I can’t let people see the real me, do you understand?”
Doreen nodded. “Oh, I do. I’ve been doing the same most of my adult life. Hiding behind the bluster, not letting people in. Richie’s dad hurt me badly, then there was… Doesn’t matter.”
Cassie put the remains of her sandwich down. What was she going to stay? Why did she stop herself? “Right, from what you’ve just told us, you’re well up for tonight, so I don’t think we have owt to worry about, do you, Mam?”
“No.” Mam appeared sad, probably still upset Dad had kept things from her, but she had to see he couldn’t tell her every little thing. “Who was the fella, by the way?”
Doreen flapped a hand. “That ruddy Martin Barnett.”
“Oh, fuck me.” Mam’s eyes closed for a moment. “Sharon’s husband?”
“Hmm.” Doreen scratched her cheek. “They’d split when I went out with him, Sharon didn’t want him back, and she never knew I went on that date. All these years she just thought he’d pissed off and didn’t pay her any child support, but he was actually dead.”
“Sharon was well shot of him by the sounds of it,” Cassie said. “No wonder she kicked him out.”
Doreen shook her head. “Poor cow. That’s another reason I don’t want her lumped in with Karen over this lark we’re dealing with now. Sharon’s all right, just led by Karen. She doesn’t mean any harm. Karen’s like the school bully. You go along with her, smile and nod, agree with everything so you don’t get punched. But Sharon stood up to her this time, said she didn’t want to kill you, so that’s something, isn’t it?”
Mam sighed. “How many years has Martin been gone?”
Doreen appeared to count back in her head. “My Richie was only little, but it was after Jess went missing and before I started seeing Felix, I know that. I’m sure Richie was about five when Felix was around.”
“We’ll send her a wedge of money in the post, anonymously,” Mam said. “Make up for all the cash she should have got from him. Slip a typed note in there saying he’s sorry he didn’t pay up sooner. Saying that, he wasn’t the sort to have an epiphany and feel bad years down the line, so it might look off.”
“Say he’s been nicked, was in prison, and found God,” Cassie said. “Whatever works.” She chuckled, a wry rasp. “I never thought we’d be paying the likes of Sharon Barnett this amount of cash.”
“I’m annoyed your father didn’t think of it—there’s nowt in the books about him paying her.” Mam sniffed in disdain. “Honestly, you think you know someone…”
“Mam…”
Cassie’s work burner bleeped with a message, preventing her from giving her mother a talking to, so she got up to look at it—Doreen sat too close. Brenda’s name and the word ‘news’ sat on the home screen. Bloody hell. “I need to make a phone call, won’t be long.”
She left the kitchen and entered the office, closing the door, and phoned Brenda. “What’s the matter?”
“Jason’s just left here.”
Cassie gritted her teeth, one of her molars squeaking. “What did he want?”
“Apparently, because he told me he wanted to take over that time, he thinks I’m his fucking sounding board. I didn’t get to record him—my phone was in the living room, and he went straight into the kitchen.”
Damn it. “What did he have to say for himself?”
“He told me everything he’s done and what he’s planning. Oh, and he skimmed the money from Nathan Abbott. The most disturbing thing? Drugging you and your mam. Getting you both hooked on anti-depressants, reliant on him so he can run the place. He blabbed to me about the fridge in the Jade—and no, I won’t be telling anyone where the drugs are stored, I like living. And to top it all, I still haven’t got round to Sid’s yet. Today is just one thing after another.”
I killed Nathan for no reason. Jesus Christ. “What advice did you give him?”
Brenda gave the information. “And I said I wouldn’t be telling you—thought it best he thinks he can still come to me. We can find out more that way. He’s a prat, but a dangerous one. To have it all worked out like that… He’s been thinking about this for a long while, he must have done, probably planned to drug Lenny, too, take over from him, but then Lenny died.”
“And he thinks I’m an easier target to get rid of so he’s rushed things along. Little bastard.”
“Exactly my feelings. I’m sorry I didn’t get to record it.”
“Doesn’t matter, I believe you. I’ve got someone else dealing with him and his confessions later anyroad.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Best you don’t. Get yourself round to Sid’s else you’ll never make it at this rate.”
Brenda let out a rush of breath. “I’m fair worn out. I hope the randy old sod doesn’t want a bit.”
Cassie shut that visual down. “Too much info, love. Tarra.” She ended the call and grabbed a ledger, one from around the time Dad would have taken Martin Barnett to Marlene. She flipped it open until she found his name. There it was, in black and white, all Martin’s information, and: DISAPPEARED.
When she had a moment, she’d read all of them again, back to back.
She wanted to work out what else Dad hadn’t told her mam.
Chapter Nineteen
Cassie and Jason sat in a booth at The Donny, the one closest to the door. The rest of the day up until now had seen Cassie, Mam, and Doreen hashing out the finer points of what they’d named The Reckoning, making contingency plans if things went wrong. Around dinnertime, Cassie had phoned Jason to arrange that ‘date’ they hadn’t managed yesterday. They’d met an hour or so ago, Cassie sending him to the booth so she could order the drinks without him knowing what she had—lemonade, but he happened to think there was vodka in it.
Time had passed with him offering small talk, banal bullshit she had no interest in but pretended she did, bored out of her bloody mind. He sipped his fifth glass of Jack Daniel’s, only a splash of Coke, a tic flickering in his jaw. He had a cob on but was doing his best to hide it with the inane chatter, had tried to act normal for the whole time they’d been here, but something boiled beneath the surface.
It was time to create an argument so she could leave.
She glanced at Jimmy standing by the bar. He had tonic water—she needed him sober for this, but his acting skills were brilliant, the way his knee bent every so often, him on his way to faked drunkenness. Cassie had whispered to Geoff that if Jimmy appeared off his face he was to ignore it, then she’d slipped him two hundred quid. His wink had sealed the deal.
“Are you sure you don’t want any food?” she asked Jason. She’d already eaten with Mam, a chicken salad, something light so she wasn’t stodged up later.
“Told you, I’m not hungry. Stop mithering.”
She laughed inside at his petulance, his inability to properly cover his true feelings, how inept he was at wearing a mask, and Mam was spot-on—he wasn’t the correct person to have as her right hand.
Time to push his buttons.
“God, what’s crawled up your arse and died? I thought this was meant to be a date, not a fucking wake.”
He folded his arms. “Got things on my mind, haven’t I.”
“Like what?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It obviously does, otherwise you wouldn’t have a face like a slapped arse. You may as well tell me, get it off your chest. A problem shared an’ all that.”
“All right, if you must know, I’m dogged off at being shunned all day.”
Shunned. What a dickhead. “I don’t need you to hold my hand all the time, thanks. I’m quite capable of asking a few questions by myself. I don’t do being joined at the hip.”
He unfolded his arms and reached for his drink—she’d been buying him doubles, and he hadn’t seemed to notice. He was so off his game it wa
s laughable.
“What if Cheryl turned funny on you, though?” he whined.
“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Cheryl, going funny? She’s soft as shit, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She saw nowt and knows nowt.” Liar. “I believe her.”
He gulped half his JD, and she was surprised he was willing to get legless—one, he’d always given her the impression he didn’t like drinking in public, and two, they could be called out to a job any second, and being three sheets to the wind wasn’t the best way to go. Why hadn’t he questioned her about boozing it up? Any other right hand worth his salt would have gently advised against it.
He blew out a stream of air. “Whatever, I still should have been there. We’re meant to present a united front, the pair of us against them.” He said the last word with spite, as if the residents were scum. A few were, but the majority were decent folk who just wanted to get on in life.
I should have realised he wasn’t a good fit from that attitude, but Dad said—
Dad was wrong.
“It’s not about being against them, Jason, but working with them—or as much as they’ll allow us to. There are only a handful of people who want to test the boundaries—the stupid ones who don’t know a good thing when it’s right in front of them—and as you know, I intend to root them out and deal with them. No matter who they are.” Would he twig what she’d really said or think it hadn’t been aimed at him?
“You should stop looking for that man with the beard,” he mumbled.
His swift change of topic should have surprised her, but of course he’d want to plant that idea in her head while he thought she was tipsy, so she’d stop searching for him. “Oh, and why’s that?”